Exceptional
by joannahobbit
Summary: Again with the summaries...all you really wanna know is that it's Smacked. Teeny bit of language, like one word.


**Something much different than what I usually write. Hope you guys like it. I'm not sure how I feel about it. **

**As always: If I owned Mac would be mine. But I don't, so I named my cat Mac. He's orange and white. But at least I can now say that Mac goes to bed with me every night. (=  
**

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The sound of the doorbell pulled Stella out of her book. She checked her watch in consternation; it was 10:30 at night. Who was making calls at this hour?

Extracting herself from her comfortable position on the couch she went to the door. A glance through the hole told her Mac was on the other side. "Why in the world…?" She thought as she pulled open the door.

"Hey Mac. What's up?"

"You left your scarf…" His voice trailed away as he saw her shirt.

Stella followed his eyes, wondering at his sudden verbal pause. It was just a….shit. It was just a shirt that said in large letters "Marines". It was too much to hope for no questions. Mac was not the type to let such an opportunity pass.

Of course he was the reason for the shirt, and of course she would never tell him that if she could help it. She had gotten her first one during Fleet Week several years ago under the very thin pretext (even to her mind) of giving it to Mac as a gift. Every year she'd get another one telling herself that she would actually give it to him this time, knowing as she did she would go home and sleep in it that very night. She wore them out rather quickly, throwing them away only when the word was no longer discernable from so many washings. The shirt was for one thing; evenings at home, to fall asleep in. Not for cleaning, not for working around the house or exercising. The shirt was about comfort and security.

As a teen she had been taken with the romance of war. She was not unrealistic; war itself was not romantic. But for her, nothing was more romantic than a man who would risk all. Stella had never had a preference for a particular branch of the Armed Forces until she met Mac. As they had gotten closer she became a Marine girl out of loyalty to him, a loyalty that over time became something substantially different.

Mac met her eyes with sly grin and arched brow; "I didn't know you were a Marine."

"It's just something I picked up during Fleet Week. I can't speak for them all, but from my experience Marines are pretty exceptional." Stella hoped her blush would not be too obvious.

"And exactly how many Marines have you known?"

"Just one." She tried to pass over the subject quickly. "You said something about my scarf? Why not just call me and tell me it was at the office?"

"I was on my way home from work and thought I'd drop it by." He knew she would pick that one apart. Truth was, she had been off that day and would be off the next as well. He had missed her. Finding her scarf gave him an excuse to go see her.

"Mac, you live in the opposite direction. You were not 'on your way home'. And the night shift is on call now, so you can't say there was a case." Good, the tables were turned and Mac was left to wriggle out of a situation. After several seconds of staring at each other, Stella opened the door completely and said "While you're thinking of a plausible reason, wanna come in for a while?"

He stepped in. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"No. I was just reading. Book, fire; just enjoying my day off."

"What are you reading?"

"Howls' Moving Castle. Ever heard of it?"

"Wasn't that a children's movie from Japan?"

Stella chuckled. "Yes. But the book came first and was actually written by Dianne Wynn Jones. Clearly she is not Japanese. I know it's technically in the Juvenile Fiction category but I don't care. It's wonderful."

By now they were side by side on her couch with Mac examining the cover of the novel. "What's it about?"

"A young girl named Sophie gets transformed into an old woman by the Witch of the Waste, part of the spell being that she can't tell anyone about it. Eventually Sophie ends up working for Wizard Howl, who happens to be somewhat of a lothario and is also the enemy of the Witch of the Waste. Sophie cleans for the Wizard but eventually helps him with his magic. Howl grudgingly accepts her, all the while knowing she is under a spell. There are many other characters, including a snarky fire-daemon who happens to be my favourite character. In the end the spell is taken off Sophie and of course she and Howl are in love and live happily ever after."

"Hm. Does not appeal to me. But then I was never too interested in fiction." He was looking at her shirt again. "However, I am interested in hearing more about that shirt. Or more specifically; why you as a scientist would make such a rush to judgment: basing your opinion on all Marines on the only one you know." He was almost desperate for an answer. One that might validate his real reason for going so far out of his way just to bring that stupid scarf.

Stella was silent for a moment. "Fine. But first you have to tell me the real reason why you are here. You could have just put the scarf on my desk. And none of this 'way home from work' BS."

"I asked first."

"My place, my shirt, my scarf. Since the connection here is me, why don't I make the rules?"

Again, a pregnant silence. This time he would not meet her eyes. Finally, whispered: "I missed you. And I was hoping…."

It was what he did not say that gave her the courage to say what came out of her mouth. "Several years ago I bought a Marine shirt under the pretext of giving it to this amazing man I've known for years. He's actually my best friend. Shortly after, that man was involved in the bombing of a building. He was ok but another friend was hospitalized. It was while sitting in the hospital, waiting for the injured friend to heal that I realized how much that Marine means to me. I've had to replace the shirt several times since then; it gets worn often."

During her story her eyes had not left his face. At some point he had finally raised his own to meet hers. For the remainder of her narration he never looked away. Nor did she. During the last sentence she had unconsciously been plucking at the sleeve of the shirt and when she was done she found her hand grasped by another, larger one. That hand was holding on to hers as if letting go would mean losing something precious.

"That long?"

"That long." She leaned her forehead against his. "You?"

"Same. When you stayed, though you did not have to, I knew then."

"What took us so long?"

"I don't know. But we need to make up for it." His hand continued to hold hers, while his other captured the back of her head, changing the angle.

The kiss was slow, but sure. There was no hesitation in their minds and it showed in their lips. Eventually they broke apart.

"Now what?" Stella asked, slightly breathless from the passion.

"I took tomorrow off, hoping that coming over here would end like this."

Stella shifted position to lean against Mac. "I'm glad you took that risk."

They remained like that for some time, talking, stealing occasional kisses. Finally, they realized that it was 3 am. Stella went for some blankets and pillows and they stretched out in front of the still burning fire, eventually falling asleep, Stella wrapped securely in Mac's arms.

Right before she fell asleep Mac asked "Anything else I need to know about this Marine friend of yours?"

"I just found out that no only is he an exceptional man, he's an exceptional kisser."

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